


We Might Fall

by NightSkyTyler



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bottom Mickey, Caring Ian, Dom Ian Gallagher, Drunk Mickey, Emotional Mickey, M/M, Protective Ian, Sassy Mickey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-24 11:23:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12011700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightSkyTyler/pseuds/NightSkyTyler
Summary: Mickey gets piss faced and shows up at the Gallager's house at 3 am with an almost empty bottle of whiskey, tears, and a broken heart





	1. Broken Hearts and Cheap Whiskey

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Gallavich fic

The Chicago streets were cold as snow fell from the dark sky, melting under the dingy orange street lights.

A drunken Mickey stumbled from the Alibi with shaky hands grasping the whiskey bottle like a lifeline. 

Tears were gathering in his eyes, and the stinging was so intense he was convinced they had frozen before they had the chance to fall. 

The alcohol coursing through his veins kept him warm as he walked the lonely streets.

His footsteps were uncoordinated and he tripped a couple of times, but he was a man on a mission.

His feet was wandering in the direction of the Gallagher's. 

His Ian was there. 

Even in his drunken state he could remember the fire in Ian's emerald eyes, bright and warning as his voice was only growing louder.

"I ain't no fucking mistress, Mickey. If you marry her, we're fucking done."

Those words haunted him with every waking second, he'd even woke up screaming Ian's name in the middle of the night. 

Two weeks has passed and everything feels wrong. 

His bed is too cold, his lips are chapped from the stress, fuck he can't even manage a smile anymore. 

Before he could continue with his thoughts, he realized he was standing on the Gallagher's porch with nothing but a thin flannel button up, nearly finished bottle of cheap whiskey, and a broken heart.

"Open the fuck up," Mickey yelled drunkenly as his hand relentlessly knocked on the door covered in knife marks from Carl. 

The door swung open revealing a messy haired, sleepy eyed, pissed off Fiona. 

"What the fuck, Mickey?" 

Her voice was furious, but her face soon dropped to something close to concern, as close to being concerned as she could be for a Milkovich. 

"Where is he? I needa see him," he slurred as he struggled to stand, his knees swaying slightly as he struggled to find his sense of balance. 

Mickey Milkovich wasn't no bitch, but he's never felt like this about anyone before and he was shit faced.

"Jesus Christ, Milkovich, get your ass in here and shut the goddamn door. You're letting the heat out," Fiona yelled with no bite to her voice as she ushered the emotional boy into her house, she pushed him onto the couch before climbing the stairs. 

"Ian, get the fuck up. Your boyfriend is crying on our damn couch," she yelled into Ian and Lip's room before throwing a stuffed animal at his head and flopping back down onto her bed.

The red head startled awake with a surprised noise and cloudy head as he managed to fumble downstairs with knitted eyebrows.

His heart stopped as his breath caught in his throat. His knees threatened to give way as he stared down at the small but built black haired man sitting on his couch.

The bottle of whiskey was now abandoned at his feet, and stray tears were spilling from crystal eyes and trailing down porcelain skin. 

His body was slouched to his right side as his head rested against the arm, while he mumbled a few things under his breath. 

Ian only caught his name and something that sounded like a "sorry" in a pleading voice.

"Mick?"

Ian's voice was gentle as he slowly approached Mickey's slumped figure, cautious to avoid spooking him.

Blue eyes shone up at him, a small pout forming on his raw bitten lips. 

"Fuck you, Gallagher."

Mickey's voice was rough and somehow small all at once as he stared up at the red haired boy, tears still falling unknowingly.

"Jesus, Mick, you're drunk."

The smaller man only rolled his eyes with a dismissive wave of his hand, "no fucking shit, fire-crotch."

"Shut the hell up, Mick."

Ian's voice was still rough with sleep as he managed to slip beside of Mickey and pull him into his arms. 

"Get the fuck off me," Mickey whispered with half lidded eyes and no move to fight Ian's warm, protective embrace.

"C'mon, let's get you to bed," Ian chuckled as he stood up and pulled the smaller boy up with him and throwing him over his shoulder. 

"Put me the fuck down, Gallagher. I'll fucking kill you, y'know. I'll have you so fucking pistol whipped you'll piss your goddamn self every time you see my motherfuckin' face."

Ian only chuckled before bringing a large hand up to press a firm slap to Mickey's ass.

"You won't."

"I've done it before, bitch."

"Yeah, and you fucking cried about it," Ian bit back with a laugh and gently placed the man down on his bed, slipping in beside of him.

He actually awed at how Mickey instantly curled up next to him and buried his head in his chest. 

He smiled as he ran his fingers through the black, greasy curls and closed his eyes. He was about to fall asleep when he heard Mickey mumble: 

"Might have to steal your damn pillowcase or somethin'."

Ian raised an eyebrow as he opens his eyes to see a sleepy Mickey. 

"Why?"

"You fuckin' smell like home, Gallagher."

Ian smiled as his heart sped up inside his chest, and he moved to press a firm kiss to Mickey's chapped lips. 

"You are home, Mick."

"Don't fuckin give up on me, Gallagher. I'm trying my fucking best. I'm busting my ass here," Mickey mumbled into Ian's chest as he bunched at the thin material of Ian's shirt.

"I ain't going anywhere, Mick," Ian promised as he pulled his boy closer and kissed his forehead. 

He closed his own eyes and focused on Mickey's breathing and steady heart beat before falling back asleep with a smile resting on his lips.


	2. South Side White Trash and His Psycho Boyfriend

⚜️❤️⚜️

The gentle feeling of Ian's fingers tracing hearts on Mickey's back is what made baby blues flutter open, a small smile resting upon his full lips.

"Fuckin' Gallagher," Mickey mumbled with a sleepy smile as Ian laughed and rolled over on top of the other man.

"You love me, Milkovich," Ian teased with a smile as he looked down to a breathless Mickey.

Mickey's chest constricted and his heart felt like it was trying to escape, his fingers sliding up to gently tangle into red locks. 

"Fuck yeah I do," Mickey agreed after a short silence, his eyes never leaving Ian's. 

Ian's eyes lit up and shone brighter that an ember in a fire, keeping Mickey warm from his cold thoughts. 

"Fuck, Ian, fuck Milkovich somewhere that's not our bedroom," Lip spoke as he raised his head from his pillow and glanced at the couple, "I'm trying to sleep."

Mickey let out a disapproving grunt when Ian sighed and rolled back into his back beside of him, leaving Mickey feeling cold and pouting.

"Fuck this," Mickey growled before moving to straddle Ian's waist and rest his hands on the boy's strong chest.

Ian smiled for a brief second before Mickey's lips were connecting with his and their warmth intertwined with every lingering breath.

They were slow and passionate rather than fast and sloppy like they usually were, and they could care less when Lip groaned and threw a pillow at their tangled limbs.

They barely registered the door being slammed shut with Lip's retreating figure, but when they pulled away Mickey couldn't stop the words spilling from his mouth.

"Fuck, Gallagher, I can't marry her."

Ian pressed his hands to the small of Mickey's back before grabbing one of the smaller boy's hands and kissing his knuckles gently.

"You don't have too."

Mickey wanted to believe the hope in Ian's voice, but he didn't know Terry like Mickey did. Ian's gentle hands and comforting kisses couldn't override the fear that rattled his soul when thinking of coming out to his father. 

"You don't fucking understand," Mickey raised his voice as his temper kicked in as a form of a defense mechanism.

"Mick, I love you. Fuck, I really fucking love you. I don't care if your dad pistol whips me or even kills me. I just want you, all of you. You can't have us both Mick, that's not fair. 

Mickey felt hopeless and torn as he fell against Ian's chest and cried the hardest he's ever cried in his life. 

His body was shaking with every sob, his lungs refused to take in enough oxygen, his eyes stung, and his head throbbed from the pressure of crying. 

He couldn't lose Ian again, but he was terrified of his father. 

"Don't worry, Mick, I'll fix this," Ian comforted as he kissed Mickey's forehead and let him cry into his shirt. 

Mickey decided that he believed Ian, he trusted him with his whole life. 

⚜️❤️⚜️

The duo walked into the Alibi side by side as they took a seat at a booth in the back, sitting opposite of one another. 

Ian said something to make Mickey laugh as bright blue eyes displayed traces of happiness that were rarely seen, along with the crooked teeth forming the most beautiful smile the world's ever seen.

They were to busy laughing and talking, they didn't notice the door opening and heavy footsteps making their way to their table.

"Mikhalio Aleksandr Milkovich, where the fuck have you been boy? Your goddamn wife's a mess lookin' for ya. Said ya' didn't come home last night," Terry accused with a sneer directed Ian's way.

Mickey curled in on himself as he avoided his father's gaze, growing the trademark Milkovich snarl.

"The bitch will just have to wait. I've got shit to do.The fuck she want anyways? I'm busting my fuckin' ass to make money for us and what does she do? Bitch can't even make toast without setting off the damn fire alarm."

Ian could feel his lover's distress and his own temper flaring up. 

"Just get the fuck home. I ain't takin' care of some whore," Terry laughed while looking down at Mickey like he was some sort of white trash bitch.

Before he could stop himself his temper flared and his vision was blurry.

Ian was fucking pissed. 

"The fuck he is. That bitch is your problem, Terry. Get the fuck outta here," Ian threatened as he stood up to tower over the smaller man. 

His teenage years have been good to him. He stood 6 foot tall and the years of JROTC training has helped him gain some muscle. 

"The fuck you say to me, Boy?"

Ian didn't back down, only squared his shoulders and stood taller in his combat boots. 

Ian felt himself lose his control as he brought his fist back and connected it to Terry's face. He doesn't feel anything as he repeatedly throws his fist through his rage fueled haze.

He doesn't register anything other than the release of his built up anger until Mickey's firm hand is hauling him off Terry's unconscious body and holding him against his chest; a stray curl falling onto his forehead.

"Fuck, Gallagher. Didn't have to go all psycho."

His voice was rough but Ian could feel his trembling hands as they held him tight. 

Ian just shrugged and kissed the older man's forehead.

"Had enough of his shit."

They stepped over Terry's limp body and when Mickey realized the whole bar was staring at them he grabbed Ian's hand forcefully and pulled him towards the door. 

"What, you've never seen south side trash and his psycho boyfriend before? The fuck people. Go outside every once in awhile."

Ian just laughed before allowing Mickey to drag him out of the doors and back to the Gallagher house. 

The sun was shining, Ian was smiling, and Mickey wasn't afraid. 

They were family, and family protects one another.

They could make this work.


	3. Prompts

I have absolutely fell in love with writing Gallavich, and I'm open to prompts!

**Author's Note:**

> Fuck I love Mickey


End file.
